Spirits Just Love Winchesters
by snlover10
Summary: Sam and Dean hunt an angry spirit, and Sam gets hurt. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

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**__ All the usual, about how I don't own anything._

_**Note: **__This is my first fan fiction, and I beg you guys not to be too harsh with the reviews._

_**Summary:**_

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**Spirits who love Winchesters**

Sam and Dean picked the lock and entered the mansion silently. A series of accidents had caused people to die violently here, and after their usual research, they had discovered they were dealing with one major pissed off spirit.

The mansion was huge, and the once beautifully designed house was now filled with broken vases of every sort littering the floor. Wallpapers were peeling off; revealing the cracked walls and the air was literally seemed to be filled with dust.

Fighting the urge to sneeze, Sam took to the basement, while Dean mentioned about checking out the second floor. Their plan was relatively simple. Locals had said the bones of the spirit was right here in the house, and all they had to do was, _''find it, salt and burn it's ass''_, as Dean had put enthusiastically.

Sam stepped into the basement, shotgun with rock salt ready. Sweeping through the room, he immediately spotted a lump of earth in the centre, and made his way quickly towards it. He was sure the bones were there, and started digging. The sooner this hunt was over, the better.

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Dean was checking room after room in the second floor. Sam had objected to separating, since it was an angry spirit after all. But it was late, and Dean was tired and wanted it to be over fast.

Cautiously making his way towards the end of the hallway, his gun ever ready, his EMF meter refused to pick up any signs. Dean cursed. _Why couldn't they ever have an easy hunt?_, he thought furiously. The mansion was immense, and it had taken Dean a long time combing the upper floor thoroughly. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he signed heavily and started making his way back to his brother.

* * *

Panting and clutching a stitch in his side, Sam dropped the last shovel of earth to the side. Confirming the bones, he pulled out his cell and speed dialed Dean's number, giving him a missed call. Dean would have had his head if Sam hadn't informed him about having found the bones, and if he had to continue prowling upstairs when the work was actually done.

After a ring, he ended the call and anxiously started searching his pockets for salt. All ready as it was, he thought he was extremely lucky not to encounter the dead guy's spirit sooner, and he was certain the good luck wouldn't last long. It never does for the Winchester family.

Sam quickly salted the bones and was just about to set it alight when he was proven right about the whole Winchester luck thing.

A high pitched screech came from behind him, and before he could raise his shotgun, he was thrown across the room, his skull colliding with the wall. He let out a slight yelp at the impact and immediately felt his vision blur as he looked straight into the eyes of his hunt.

* * *

Dean froze momentarily as the blood curdling scream echoed up the stairs.

''SAMMY!''

_Shit_, he thought desperately as he sprinted down the hallway. He knew they should never have separated. He screamed his brother's name again as he practically flew through the mansion, all the while fearing what he might find when he reaches the basement.

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_**Note:**_

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	2. Chapter 2

_**Note:**_ _Sorry about the last chapter being a little rushed. It was the first one after all, didn't want it to be craggy. Thanks for the reviews too._

**Chapter 2**

Sam gaped at the spirit blankly. _Get up, do something!_, his mind urged. But his body refused to cooperate. His head felt like on fire and his vision was horrible. There were two of everything, and surely, that's not a good sign.

His brain was still racing as the spirit drew nearer, savoring its victory of claiming yet another victim. A lose wire rose from no where, and before Sam could register it and do anything, the wire rounded his neck with unnatural speed, as the spirit continued hovering a feet from Sam.

The wire tightened, and Sam was using all the energy he had trying to pry it away from his neck. With his free hand, he tried reaching for his shotgun. One shot would leave the spirit scampering away for sure.

But Sam had just been thrown across the basement like a rag doll, though he was six feet tall, and his head has just smashed fantastically into the wall. There wasn't much one could do, even if you are a Winchester.

Slowly, his vision deteriorated and black spots danced in front of his eyes. His mind became sluggish and now Sam used both hands weakly trying to pull the wire away. _Well, this sucks. After hunting all sorts of demonic sons of a bitches, I get killed by a spirit. Dean is so not gonna be pleased_, he thought dryly.

At the thought of his brother, Sam desperately drew one last ragged breath and using every last ounce of his strength, again trying in vain to prise the thing away from his neck, while the mad spirit before him grinned maniacally.

_Shit, shit, shit_, was all Dean could think of as he barged through the mansion. Reaching the basement, he kicked the door open and felt his heart stop.

Sam was lying on the ground, hands at his neck barely alive while the spirit floated. Something click in his head and Dean shouted.

''Get away from my brother you bastard!''

And with that, he pulled his trigger and loaded the spirit with rock salt as it turned to look at him in surprise, before slowly disappearing. Dean rushed to Sam and yanked off the wire, which could now be done easily since the spirit was gone.

''SAM!''

Dean felt a relief washing over him as his brother's puppy dog eyes opened and looked at him. Sam looked glazed. His neck where the wire cut into was bruised slightly, and his pupils were a bit uneven too. But other then that, he seemed fine.

''Dean.'' Sam's voice was soft and slurred.

''Yes, that's right. It's Dean again''. Dean muttered angrily and nearly wanted to throttle his brother himself. ''Jeez Sammy, why do you _always_ have to get yourself strangled? Next time, I'm not gonna be there to save your sorry ass.''

Sam gave a tired smile and winced when Dean helped him up. Seeing Sam sway on the spot and clutching his side, Dean's eyes softened and asked in a brusque manner.

''You okay?''

Sam nodded.

At least Dean hoped it was brusque. He didn't want to sound all girly and go into chick flick moments and hug his brother. _No, that was Sammy_, he thought to himself and stifled a grin. He loved Sam, and would never forgive himself if anything bad happened to him. Still, that didn't allow Dean to hug anyone. _Over my dead body, _he thought again.

Sam opened his eyes and stared at Dean. His head was still hurting, and there was a horrible pain in his side. But at least he could breathe freely again.

After helping him up and inquiring him on how he felt rather roughly, Dean busied himself salting the bones again (he didn't trust Sam when he had his head smashed into a wall), and setting them alight.

Sam knew Dean was worried, but he hardly ever showed his feelings. Watching Dean scurrying around his numerous pockets in his prized leather jacket, Sam bit back a gasp as his side throbbed horribly once more. He looked down and saw something long and thin sticking into his flesh.

Sam blinked lazily and tried to get his thoughts in order. _Must have landed on it when the bastard threw me across_, Sam thought as he reached down and pulled it out, hiding it from Dean. He was already worried enough, and no point worrying him further over something as small as this.

Pressing his palm over the would to stop the blood that was now trickling out slowly, heat blazed in front of him as Dean set the bones on fire.

''Alright Samantha, let's get the hell out of this creepy hole and head back to the motel'', Dean said tiredly.

Sam nodded once more, regretting it instantly as his head felt like it got smashed against a wall. _It was smashed against the wall_; he reminded himself and followed his brother back to the impala.

Leaning against the cool window as Dean blared the speakers, Sam drifted off into a doze even with the music on, thinking that the first thing he should do when they reached motel was to check out his wound properly.

_**Note:**_ _Hope that's good. Again, reviews are greatly appreciated. Thanks._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean was cruising down the highway with Sam by his side. His brother was currently sleeping, slumped against the window with not a worry in the world.

But Dean had been worried. Heck, Dean had been _very_ worried.

When he found Sam laying on the floor like that, not moving and hardly breathing, it was as if his worst fears had come true. Dean wouldn't know what to do without him. Yes, he did tease him and argued with him now and then, because that's what brothers do. What the hell is family for then?

He would never admit this to Sam though. His job was to take care of him, not act all wussy when he gets hurt.

Dean glanced at his brother again, his breath fogging the window where his mouth was wide open. He grinned, thinking back to the time when Sam had woken up finding a plastic spoon in his mouth. Yep, he hadn't been too pleased with that. Dean briefly considered doing it again, but it was late and he was too tired to listen to Sam's response about how Dean was being childish and stupid. Knowing Sam, he'd most probably give a whole lecture on the topic. _I'm not childish_, Dean automatically thought, and could almost see Sam in his mind rolling his eyes at him.

Finally reaching the hotel, Dean slapped his brother's shoulder and called loudly to carry the duffel bags into the motel.

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Sam started awake as Dean whacked him on his shoulder. The pain in his head was still there, banging against his skull. And his side where the thing was lodged in still throbbed horribly as if his heart was there. 

He slowly gazed around and found he was back in the motel. He withdrew his hand which was snaked around his waist clutching his wound and saw that his shirt was moist with blood.

''Are you gonna get the bags or what?'', Dean's voiced boomed through his skull and making him wince.

''Why can't you carry them?''

''Because I drove here Sammy. So, it's your turn to do something useful'', Dean laughed and walked to the motel. Sam bit back a retort and slowly made his way to pick up the bags. _As if Dean will ever let me drive the car_, he thought angrily.

Picking them up and climbing up the stairs, his entire body screamed in protest and his legs seemed to be made of lead. Entering the room, he found Dean already stretched out on the bed.

''Switch off the lights Sam. And make sure there's coffee for me tomorrow morning'', Dean smirked and drawled, before turning his back to Sam and going to sleep. Sam was seething and he almost wanted to throw the bags at his brother. But being Sam Winchester and not Dean, he kept his anger under check and dumped the bags in a corner before switching off the lights.

Entering the toilet with the first aid kit, Sam stared at his wound. It was small, but he could tell it was pretty deep. Blood was still slowly seeping out from it and quickly Sam thought what to do. It was late and he could barely keep his eyes open. He resigned to bandaging the wound rather clumsily as all he wanted to do was crash onto his bed.

Feeling relatively pleased with his work, he went back to the room where he found Dean snoring loudly. Sam felt slightly uncomfortable around his stomach and passed if off as the bandage around his wound. There was still his annoying headache. Searching for the panadol, he chucked a couple into his mouth and washed it down with water.

Both his head and wound were exploding and Sam thought it was a huge achievement he hadn't gasped or passed out from the pain. He continued to feel the blood soaking his bandage and not caring about anything at that moment except sleep, Sam fell onto his bed and slept, the reassuring sounds of Dean's snores calming his racing heart.

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_**Note: **This story is not going to be too long, as I dislike long ones myself. Most probably a couple more chapters or so and it'll be done. Keep the reviews coming, every writer loves them. -smiles-_

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	4. Chapter 4

_**Note: **Thanks for all the reviews, it made me smile._

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**Chapter 4**

Dean awoke to look up at the ugly ceiling. It was dawn, and the sun rays were filtering through the moth eaten curtains. He craned his neck to look at Sam, thinking most probably he'd be up and about. To his surprise, his brother was still sleeping, facing him. _Must be really tired, for me to wake up before him_, he thought. Sam had always been a morning person.

He sat up, looking fondly at him for a moment before deciding to be annoying and threw a pillow at Sam.

''Rise and shine Samantha!''

Sam opened his eyes to slits and glared at Dean.

''Come on, get ready and we'll head out for breakfast.''

Sam signed and sat up slowly. ''Not hungry Dean. You go.''

Dean thought this weird. Sam usually always had breakfast, him being a nutter about health and everything. _Huh_, he inwardly wondered just what the hell was troubling him.

''Is this because I asked you to carry the bags and for the coffee yesterday?'', he asked mockingly, knowing that it very well wasn't. Sam was an absolute angel; he wouldn't be bothered by stuff like these.

His brother signed again, louder this time. Placing his head in his hands, he said in a low scratchy voice, very slowly, as if he was talking to someone retarded. ''No Dean, just go. I wanna do some research for our next hunt.''

''Geek.''

Dean replied and stared for a few seconds before shrugging and heading out the door. Walking to his beloved impala, he thought he should probably get back something for Sam to eat, after he's released from his grouchy mode. _Cranky little girl_, he told himself and laughed out loud, driving away the impala from his brother.

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Sam was pissed when something fluffy hit his head. Glaring at Dean, he tried his best to convince him he wasn't hungry, and lied that he needed to do some research. 

Truth was, all he wanted was to go back to sleep. The panadols' effect he took the previous night for the headache was gone. He knew he was suffering from post concussion syndrome (PCS); he could hardly coordinate his movements. And his side was killing him. He looked at his wound again, trying to register what was there.

The entire bandage was scarlet, and his shirt felt a bit moist too. Thankfully, he hadn't leaked onto the bed. Sam felt weak from the blood loss. But he gave his word to Dean that he'd research for their next hunt.

Slowly, he pushed himself off the bed, his muscles screaming in protest, his head threatening to burst open. Immediately, a wave of dizziness engulfed him and he crashed to his knees, placing his palms on the floor and willing the moment to pass quickly.

Finally, it subsided. Sam's hands were shaking and he was feeling nauseous too. His knees now hurt from dropping to the floor. _Just what I need, more pain_, he thought dully and pulled himself up onto a chair, facing his prized laptop.

He stared at it for a few seconds before he realized why he was there. _Why did I have to open my mouth and tell Dean that I'd do research?_, before switching on his laptop. As soon as the screen flashed, Sam gasped and shut his eyes, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes, feeling the cool. _Dammit!_ The PCS was making him sensitive to light.

Wiping away the tears leaking out from his eyes, he tried opening them again to work on his laptop, but to no avail. The banging in his skull and the fire in his side finally reigned free and took over him. He just wanted to sleep, but Sam was too tired to even make it back to his bed. _Just a couple of minutes_, and he lowered his head onto the keyboards and blissfully fell asleep once more, leaving the pain of reality behind.

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Dean was pleased. He had gotten himself a nice greasy chicken sandwich, and for Sam a salad, together with two cups of coffee. Sailing down the empty road, with the speakers blasting away, he was humming contently and eager to start on their next hunt. _Whatever college boy had found out, _smiling to himself as the song reached a crescendo. 

Unlocking the door, he called out.

''Hey geek boy, your awesome big brother is back!''

And then he spotted Sam, slumped against his laptop, sleeping. Something was wrong. Dropping everything he bought on the floor, he leaped to Sam, shaking him, begging him to open his eyes.

''Sam, come on, wake up man. Sam! SAMMY!''

Dean started to panic. Was the concussion really that serious? And then he saw something else that made his mouth dry.

Blood. Blood on Sam's shirt. He pulled the shirt up and cursed loudly. The clumsily done bandage work was soaked in his little brother's blood. _Shit_, he thought yet again two days in a row.

''Dammit Sam, wake up!'', practically yelling. There was too much blood loss and it wasn't something Dean could fix, though they both were trained pretty expertly in handling wounds. No, Sam would need professional help.

With shaking hands, he thumped the numbers for an ambulance and wrapped some blankets about him to keep him warm. _God, he looks so frickin' pale_, Dean cringed. How the hell didn't he notice this earlier? It was obvious he had gotten the injury when hunting that bitch of a spirit.

Within minutes, paramedics arrived, shouting at Dean to get out of the way, with Dean yelling back abuse at them for roughly prising his Sam away from him.

Watching them load his brother into the ambulance from his car, Dean hoped it wasn't anything serious as he drove behind them, occasionally honking and swearing at them to go faster.

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_**Note:**_ _I didn't feel too good writing this, like something was off. Seemed a little boring. Anyway, as usual, reviews are appreciated. _


	5. Chapter 5

_**Note:** Heart my reviewers. This is the last chapter, as you guys might recall I'm not a huge fan of draggy stories myself. And I really would like to thank everyone who had read and reviewed my story. _

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**Chapter 5**

Sam felt everything move around him. The hurt from his head and side wasn't so bad now, and he felt his entire head was actually detached from his body. He blearily opened his eyes and was forced to squint. The ceiling was blinding him with its whiteness, blurry edges were around him, wheeling him fast.

And in front, running along keeping with the pace, he saw a very familiar figure, clad in dark clothing.

''De…''

People were shushing him, and the figure attempted to move closer, but was stopped. Sam's mind was too confused and he was unable to make out what everyone was saying. Slowly, his eyes drooped close, the voices rolling around in his head and lulling him to sleep once more.

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Dean was jogging, keeping up with the gurney. He still couldn't get over how pale his brother looked. _This is so my fault_, he screamed to himself. The guilt was eating him away from inside. After all, he was the one who told Sam to separate when hunting that spirit, _that bitch of a spirit_, when Sam actually refused. He really should start listening to Sam more. 

Dean's heart skipped when he saw Sam flicker his eyes open. He seemed dazed and at a loss of what was happening.

''De…''

Immediately, Dean tried moving closer, but the paramedics were holding him off.

''Sir, you can't just-''

''It's okay Sam, I'm here. Don't worry''

Dean felt like punching the young paramedic before him, but at the sight of Sam calling out to him, he spurred into action, continuing to utter promises of how everything will be alright.

Sam looked at him, before closing his eyes again, and Dean was forced to stop as they wheeled him away through the doors, his heart heavy.

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Pacing impatiently across the waiting area, Dean cursed. Patience wasn't a virtue in his book, and everyone who knew Dean Winchester would never say he had it. Dean was more of a ''shoot first, ask questions later'' kind of guy. No, Sam was the patient one. 

At long last, the doctor in charge walked quickly through down the hallway, his expression grim.

Dean stared, his mouth dry and body tense. _No, no, no, no._ _This couldn't be happening._ And although he didn't want to, his mind started flashing images into his eyes, making him see Sam lying on a pyre, white as sheet with eyes closed. Making Dean imagine that he'd be the one to set his body alight, watch as the flames consume his last remaining family member, his baby brother.

_No, no, no, no_, Dean frantically thought. It's just a concussion, and a flesh wound. It can't be fatal… There isn't supposed to be much blood loss too. _Yes, Sammy's fine_. He forced himself to think rationally, yet he awaited the doctor with a racing heart.

''How's my brother?'', he asked before he could stop himself. The doctor looked at him and broke into a smile. _What the fu-_

''Well Mr. Howard, your brother is doing fine. Sam's concussion is alright, and he's wound is just a little infected, but we've treated him for that. He's case isn't too serious, just Class II Hemorrhage. He's tachycardic, meaning he has rapid heart beat and is just acting a little different. But there's no cause for worry, as this is common from anyone suffering from blood loss. Blood transfusion is typically not required, but your brother seems weak and we're just pumping some fluids into him to help him regain himself.'', the doctor stated. Seeing Dean's flabbergasted look, he restated in a more gentle tone, dropping his professionalism.

''It's okay Mr. Howard. Sam is fine. You can see him in awhile, just fill up these forms first and you could go.'', handing some papers into the Dean's hands.

Dean took the papers without a word. Pure relief and happiness was flooding from limb to limb. Slowly, he smiled, stretching his once worried face to look more radiant. _Sammy is fine_, he thought happily and started filling out the forms, struggling to remember all the fake details of them at the moment, which was clashing wildly with his joy.

Handing them in to the hot looking receptionist, he made his way to his brother, almost a bounce in his step.

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Doctor Daniel Gates was elated that his new patient, Sam Howard, was going be alright. But his joy was overshadowed that his other patient, brought in a few days before Sam, wasn't doing well at all. 

Making his way down the hallway, he saw Sam's brother pacing impatiently. His face was grim, mimicking the doctors' expression as well. After informing him that Sam was indeed as healthy as he could be with a smile (his brother wasn't too sure, and kept waiting for the doctor to contradict himself and say a ''but'', it seemed.), Gates handed him a couple of forms and reassuring him that Sam was fine once more, he started walking over to the Miller family to deliver the ultimatum, who were all awaiting the news of their youngest daughter with their hearts in their mouths.

_Sometimes it really sucks to be a doctor_, he thought sadly to himself as he continued walking. He glanced back to look at Sam's brother, who was almost bouncing in his step looking like a rainbow as he made his way to see Sam, and that notion was chucked out of his mind as soon as it even came.

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It had been a couple of days since he was brought in, and Sam, leaning comfortably against his pillow, his hand holding the remote and watching an awesome historical documentary, was ready to be back on the road with his body refueled. Glued to the tv, he jumped a bit when Dean barged through the doors. 

''Man, that nurse just blew me off when I asked her number! Bitch!'', he stated angrily. Sam rolled his eyes and didn't turn to look at his brother, and instead, just continued watching the screen.

''Hey to you too Dean.''

Throwing himself down on the seat beside his bed, Dean snatched the remote out of his hands and started flicking rapidly through the channels.

''Hey! I was watching that!''

''What, you mean this?'', and rested the channel in a boxing match. _God, Dean is such an ass at times_, Sam fumed silently. Not wanting to watch people beating each other up, he picked up the day's paper.

Dean switched off the tv and pulled the paper away from Sam.

''Dean!''

''I'm bored Sam. When are you gonna be discharged?''

Biting back everything he wanted to shout at his brother at that moment, Sam forced himself to remain calm and answered at his best bitchy voice.

''Soon.'', and snatched back the remote from Dean, watching the documentary and keeping the remote a safe distance from him. His brother whacked him on his head and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet on another chair, occasionally blowing his bubble gum with a loud pop and making cries of joy when commercials came.

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Dean was waiting outside his beloved impala for Sam to come out from the hospital. He still couldn't forget Sam's pale face and cool skin, and what if it had been something more serious. That thought freaked him out. He had ordered Sam to get him coffee from the vending machine before walking out the hospital to drive the impala to the hospitals' entrance, much to the annoyance of the nurse who refused to give him her number. Laughing to himself, he swelled with pride. _Take that bitch._

Sam walked out the through the doors, balancing two cups of steaming coffee in one hand, the other holding the newspaper. Taking a cup from him, he got into the car.

''Ready to go Sammy?'', he asked his brother cheerfully, who nodded. Stating the engine which growled with the same happiness, Dean took a lungful of his coffee and gagged and sputtered. Sam chuckled and turned to face him in his seat, his dimples on full display.

''That's for irritating me when I was watching tv.'', he said as he slyly pulled out a packet of salt from his pocket.

Dean couldn't believe it, as he stared from his coffee to Sam's face to the salt packet he was holding, and full realization hit him. _Why, that cheeky little bastard_, he thought before yelling.

''BITCH!"

''JERK!''

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_**Note:**__ Ok, sorry for the lame ending, but I really was out of ideas. Besides, I have another story swimming in my head. Thinking of torturing darling Sammy. I know it's been done; I'll try my best to make it as different as possible. ANY-way, let me know what ya'll think about this story and the torturing thing. Thanks for in advance!_


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